A Possible Spacetime (3)

Images from my memory resurfaced.

[Continental Magic Association Headquarters, Top Floor]

Serie sat on that high throne, resting her chin on one hand, her golden eyes calmly looking down at the two people standing side by side.

Genau and Methode stood side by side, keeping a certain distance between them.

"Genau's partner died in battle a few days ago," Serie said, her voice devoid of emotion. "For now, the two of you will go to the Northern Plateau as a team to carry out the mission of subjugating the Demons."

Methode turned her head to look at Genau beside her.

The man stood ramrod straight, his dark eyes fixed solely on the throne, his face clean and expressionless, as if the deceased just mentioned had no connection to him whatsoever.

Methode stepped half a step to the side, turned to Genau, and extended her right hand.

"Please take good care of me, Mr. Genau."

Genau's eyes didn't move. His gaze remained fixed on Serie, but he spoke to her in a harsh voice.

"The dangers of the Northern Plateau are no less than those of the northernmost border. Don't hold me back."

Methode's outstretched hand remained suspended in mid-air, unretracted, and her smile remained unchanged.

On the throne, Serie silently watched them for a few seconds.

"Shake hands."

Genau's expression remained unchanged. He turned to face Methode, extended his hand, and shook hers.

The action was swift and decisive, separating in an instant.

He then turned back to face Serie, as if he had just given an insignificant instruction.

Methode withdrew her hand, her gentle smile still on her face.

The images in my memory are fading.

Methode blinked, her gaze refocusing on the longsword in her hand.

She gently put down her sword, then remembered another conversation.

[Before setting off, on a quiet street in the Royal Capital, beside a bench.]

Genau sat in the middle of the bench, holding a small bag of grain in his hand, and expressionlessly scattered it to the cooing pigeons at his feet.

Methode stood at the other end of the bench, watching the gray-feathered birds huddled together.

"Methode," Genau suddenly spoke, without looking at her.

Do you consider yourself a good person?

Methode tilted her head slightly.

I don't understand what you mean.

Genau did not stop.

"My previous partner was an overly kind guy. Completely my opposite."

His voice was flat, as if he were talking about someone else.

"He's the kind of guy who genuinely cares about strangers. He's always easygoing and has a smile on his face. People who don't know him would think we're really close friends."

He gave a soft chuckle.

"Oh."

"He sacrificed himself to protect some children he bumped into on the street. What an idiot."

He scattered the last grains of rice from his palm. The pigeons scrambled for them, their feathers fluttering.

"I would never do that. Not even once."

He brushed the crumbs off his hands and turned to look at Methode. Her dark eyes were deep and unfathomable.

"To date, I have witnessed countless instances of failing to help someone in distress. Many times."

Methode returned his gaze quietly without saying a word.

Genau turned his head and looked at the few pedestrians scattered on the street.

"So, why me?" Methode asked.

"What?"

Why me, the one who teamed up with you?

Genau paused for a moment.

"This is Lady Serie's decision."

"But one thing I'm clear about," Genau continued, "And only one thing I can guarantee—all the First-Class Mages dispatched to the Northern Plateau are battle maniacs who crave war."

He turned his head and glanced at Methode.

"It's really a bit unbelievable. I've always wondered why I was teamed up with you instead of Ubel."

He turned back, his tone returning to its usual indifference.

"But it doesn't matter. Few normal people enjoy fighting."

He stood up and patted off non-existent dust from his pants.

"Don't end up like me."

He started to walk away, but paused for a moment as he passed Methode, lowering his voice slightly.

"Also, I often leave people to die without offering assistance. So during battle, you'd better prioritize your own survival."

Don't expect me to come to your rescue.

After saying that, he walked straight away without looking back.

Methode stood by the bench, watching his figure disappear around the street corner.

After the pigeons at my feet finished eating the grains, several of them fluttered away.

"Miss Methode- Date?"

Fern's voice pulled Methode from her memories.

She looked up and saw that Frieren and Fern were already up, doing the final checks. Stark had also returned and was standing in the doorway.

"It's time to go," Frieren said, rolling up the map and putting it away.

Methode nodded, stood up, and straightened her robes.

"Let's exchange some information before we officially begin," Frieren, looking at Methode.

"Okay." Methode picked up the sword and pointed to several marks on it. "Based on the remaining traces of magic and the sword marks at the scene, I determine that the main force of the Demons that attacked the village consisted of four. They disappeared after their success, and their whereabouts are currently unknown."

She paused, then touched a particularly deep notch on the blade with her fingertip.

"One of them is probably a 'general' from the Demons race."

Genau, arms crossed, leaned against the doorframe. Hearing this, he raised his eyelids slightly but said nothing.

"General?" Stark asked.

"Hmm." Frieren continued, explaining casually, "'General' refers to a particularly skilled warrior among the Demons. They use magic to strengthen their bodies for extended periods at high intensity, and are also top-tier masters in martial arts. Among them are many who have cultivated for thousands of years in pursuit of the ultimate martial arts technique."

She glanced at Stark.

"In the Demon King's Army before, there were several generals who were far stronger than Eisen."

Stark's eyes widened.

"Huh? Really...?"

"Furthermore," Methode continued, gesturing with her fingers in the air as if making several slashing motions, "This enemy might be using Four-Sword Style. Their size... is probably quite different from ours."

"So what if they're big?" Stark gripped the axe handle on his back. "We've fought many enormous monsters."

"A monster is a monster, Demons is Demons." Frieren shook her head. "Have you ever fought against a master who wields four swords?"

"How is that possible...?"

"Neither do I," Frieren said, her emerald eyes gazing into the deep night outside the door. "Presumably, this is the biggest reason why the garrisoned knights were defeated so quickly."

"Lack of experience in fighting this type of enemy."

Several miles away from the village, deep within the ruins of a half-collapsed castle.

This place was once a fortress on which a frontier nobleman depended for survival; now only ruins remain, leaning against each other. At the highest point, on the remaining foundation that may have been a watchtower or main hall, a huge shadow looms between the crumbling stone steps.

Leifuerdi.

He stood with his back to the entrance, his four arms clasped together in pairs on his coiled snake tail. An eye mask of unknown material covered the upper half of his face, revealing only his hard jawline and tightly pursed lips. Even when he was still, the aura of blood and steel, accumulated over years of battle, seemed to tangibly permeate the air.

"Lord Leifuerdi--!"

A light, almost jubilant shout came from afar.

The Demons girl, nicknamed "Cloud" (self-chosen), practically skipped through the dilapidated corridor. The ribbons on her legs drew striking arcs in the dim light, appearing particularly eye-catching and alluring, a glimmer of light against the gloom. Her smile was almost unreal, her eyes wide open, filled with pure excitement and joy.

"Here it comes! Here it comes! Here it comes!" She stopped below Leifuerdi, tilting her head back, her voice crisp and quick, "The prey has taken the bait! A feast rich in magic has arrived!"

"There are five!" Yun held up her fingers, counting them off one by one, speaking rapidly, "Four mages! Three of them are First-Class Mages! And one is a warrior!"

She clasped her hands together, resting them on her chin, her eyes sparkling.

"These few people definitely can't beat us, right? Shall we take them out now? Immediately? Right now, Lord Leifuerdi!"

Leifuerdi remained silent for a moment.

He slowly raised his upper left arm and made a simple "stop" gesture.

"... No."

Yun's excited expression froze abruptly, then was replaced by a deeper, innocent confusion. She tilted her head slightly.

"Eh--? Why, Lord Leifuerdi? They seem quite wary of us, gathered together as if preparing to advance slowly. If we don't go now, won't it be more troublesome once they find this place?"

"Wait until they disperse." Leifuerdi's voice was as still as a deep pool, without a ripple. "I have a bad feeling. Now is not the best time."

"Scatter?" Yun blinked, her long eyelashes fluttering. "Would they really scatter? They're so wary even though they know we're nearby..."

"Yes." Leifuerdi's four arms twitched slightly. The fingers of his two lower hands interlaced in a strange gesture, resembling both prayer and restraint, while his two upper hands were loosely extended, as if grasping an invisible sword hilt in the air. "We slaughtered that village, leaving so many corpses, precisely for this."

"Corpses?" Yun's face was almost overflowing with confusion. She took a small step forward, the ribbon fluttering lightly with the movement. "Why? Why did they scatter after killing so many humans? Aren't corpses useless now? They can't talk or move anymore!"

"It's a trait unique to humans," Leifuerdi replied, his tone neither sarcastic nor purely declarative, but cold and precise.

Almost simultaneously, in the village.

Genau looked at Frieren and the others. "Before the Norm Knights come to retrieve the corpse, one person needs to stay and guard it. I'll take care of it. The four of you can go and fight the Demons."

Leifuerdi continued, his voice echoing low beneath the empty dome of the ruins. "It's human nature to leave a portion of our forces in the village to protect the corpses."

"Why? Why at all?" Yun pressed on relentlessly, like a child who had received a new and exciting toy but couldn't figure it out. "To sacrifice your precious fighting strength for something useless? That's so strange! Lord Leifuerdi, please tell me!"

Leifuerdi finally made a slightly more noticeable movement—his blindfolded head tilted very slightly toward the direction of the clouds.

"You really are strange." His voice remained steady, but seemed to carry a barely perceptible, inquisitive tone. "Are you so interested in these trivial human habits?"

"Yes! Interesting! Very interested!" Yun nodded vigorously. "It's very interesting! Why would someone put themselves in danger for something that will never move again? I really want to know why!"

"Want to understand humans...?" Leifuerdi murmured, his interlaced fingers tapping lightly on his elbows. "... We don't need to know why, just that they do it is enough. But I do know a Demons who 'understands' humans very well, to a nauseating degree."

"Really?! Really?!" Yun's eyes lit up like stars, and she even jumped up and down with joy. "Could you introduce me to Lady Leifuerdi?! I want to talk to her! I want to know what she 'knows'!"

Leifuerdi remained silent for a moment.

"... I'll consider it if it comes in handy."

"Yeah--!ヾ(✿ﾟ▽ﾟ)ノ"

Yun's cheers echoed crisply beneath the ruined vaulted ceiling. She twirled happily, her ribbons and skirt tracing light, graceful arcs, as if she had received not a vague promise, but the most wonderful gift in the world.

In the shadows not far away, two other figures stood quietly.

Nebel, dressed in a kasaya (self-chosen name; in the original work, he is a kasaya/mist Demons), stood with his hands clasped together and his eyes lowered. A very faint mist, almost an illusion, silently swirled around him and then dissipated.

The Demons girl named Zolida (Suolida) crossed her arms and leaned against a broken stone pillar, the scabbard at her waist gleaming coldly in the dim light. An eyepatch covered half of her face, and her other eye coldly swept over the cheering clouds, past the massive snake-tailed figure on the stone steps, and finally fell silent.

The wind rushed in through the huge hole in the castle, its whistling suddenly turning sharp, stirring up fine dust that danced silently in the cold light cast by the waning moon.